


His Little Angel

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dangerous Heels, Dom!Misha, F/M, NSFW, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Smut., a Swing!, sub!Reader, use of sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 09:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16930743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Sometimes you need a little reminding who’s in charge…~





	His Little Angel

You had rules. They were fairly simple, but they were absolute, and to break them for any reason meant punishment. Sometimes it was unavoidable. Work, or family commitments occasionally made it difficult for you to adhere to your rules, and when that happened, Misha gave you a little leeway. But, when you blatantly chose to disobey… he had no mercy for you then. None at all.

Your biggest rule was an easy one. You were to meet Misha every evening on your knees at the front door. You were to be waiting patiently, dressed to go out, should he want to, and ready to serve his needs.

That night you broke your biggest rule.

It had been an extremely long, stressful day at work, and you missed your husband dearly. He had been away all weekend at a convention and on set that week more than usual. You needed some attention, and you were going to take it if you had to.

As the clock ticked down to Misha’s arrival, you prepared yourself for him; making sure that every inch of your body was smooth and clean. Your hair was up high, your makeup was perfect. While tearing through your closet for a dress that would knock his socks off, your eyes landed on something even better. Something that was sure to grab his attention, and, more than likely, get you into big trouble.

 

 

At exactly 11:03 pm, Misha’s key turned in the lock, and you pulled in a deep, anxious breath as you waited for his reaction.

The door opened and sharp blue eyes fell to your usual place on the floor, but finding you not in your place, Misha quirked an eyebrow in concern.

“Hey there, Stud,” you greeted in a husky whisper, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

Misha lifted his eyes and nearly tripped over himself when he beheld your defiance.

Not only were you not in your place, and speaking to him so informally, but you were just about naked, save for a familiar costume.

As the closed the door behind him, you stood up to display your attire: a pair of stilettos tightened your calves under the tails of one of Castiel’s trench coats from season five, and underneath it all, a blue silk tie hung loosely off your neck, dangling between your naked breasts.

He gapped for a quick moment before straightening up to his full height and clearing his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

A smirk graced your lips as you took a careful step towards him, your thin heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “Just waiting for you, Big Boy.” One more step and you popped a hip, kicking your bare leg out for his viewing pleasure. “Like what you see?”

Misha’s cheek pulsed as his jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed and his voice dropped. “No,” he hissed. “You’re out of place, Little One.”

Pushing him even further, you crossed your arms, forcing your tits together. “So?”

His scowl was deep and he raised an eyebrow. “Tread carefully,” he growled.

Tapping your foot, you clicked your tongue and shrugged. “Nah.”

That did it. That one little noise broke him. That subtle pop of your tongue against the roof of your mouth showed him more disrespect than if you’d cursed in his face, and Misha was done with your nonsense.

He closed the space between you in half a second and wrapped his hands around your upper arms, pulling you up just enough to almost knock you off balance. You gasped and looked up into his darkened eyes, trying to hide the giddy smile that tickled your lips; you were about to get exactly what you wanted.

“Are you testing me?” he asked, knowing full well that you were.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with a sass-filled shrug.

His fingers curled tightly around your arms. “I think you do.” Before you could reply, he pulled you into a spin with such force that you had no choice but to move with him or break a heel. “I think you’ve forgotten your place here, Y/N.” He let your arms go with a firm shove that sent you backwards, your feet trying desperately to catch up with the rest of you. “You need to be reminded; to be shown who you are.” Another push and your back hit the wall next to the door, and you froze as Misha came closer, stalking over to you with fire in his eyes. “Need to make you my Little Angel again.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed himself against you, the cold metal buckle on his belt biting into the warm skin of your stomach. “I…”

“What’s that?” He leaned closer until his lips were a fraction of an inch away from yours. His aura pulsed against you; his scent filled your mind, hot and dark like the woods, and sweet like a peach.

You closed your eyes as his hands found you again, this time sliding gently underneath the lapels of the trenchcoat. His fingers danced across your collarbone and pushed at the heavy fabric, forcing it down your shoulders. You were trapped against the wall, and the coat bunched up behind you, locking your arms at your sides.

“Don’t you want to be my Little Angel?” he asked in a rumbling whisper against your lips.

“Yes.” Your chest heaved under the weight of the moment, your heart racing as your mind reeled.

Misha pulled the coat down your arms, tugging it until it reached your wrists. “Try again.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whimpered, opening your eyes to find him impossibly close; dark lashes falling slowly as he blinked.

“That’s better.”

His right hand rose steadily up your arm, firmly sliding upwards until he turned his palm against your neck. Hot fingers grazed your delicate skin, waking every cell, causing goosebumps to appear like fireworks in the summer sunset. He hooked his index finger under the blue silk at your throat and ran it downwards until he hit the knot. You gasped as he gave the tie a good yank, jerking your shoulders away from the wall. He stayed still and your lips met for the briefest moment, barely a kiss, just a hint of mouth against yours. Misha smirked and backed away slowly, keeping his fingers tight around the tie. They slid down the tail and then pulled you forward, leading you into the middle of the room. The trenchcoat slid off your hands and crashed to the floor behind you, leaving you naked in heels and his tie.

“You know you’re not supposed to play with my costumes,” he said with an air of mischievous authority. He was going to punish you, yes, but his voice and the glint in his eye told you he was going to enjoy it, too.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you lied, and he knew it, raising a brow to gaze down at you.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

Misha tugged at the tie and pulled you to him, lifting your chin to his with a flick of his wrist. “I don’t believe you.”

His voice made you shudder and you closed your eyes as his breath passed over your cheeks.

“On your knees,” he commanded, and your shoulders relaxed as a warm sense of peace washed over you. Immediately, you sank to the floor and, mindful of your sharp heels, sat up at attention at his feet.

Misha observed you for a long moment, letting his eyes take their fill of your curves, inspecting each inch of flesh as it was so perfectly displayed for him. You held your pose; legs slightly spread, palms turned up on your thighs, you head gracefully bowed, feeling his gaze travel your body, igniting your passion and turning off your mind.

When he had seen enough, Misha tugged gently on the tie and turned towards the bedrooms. “Come along,” he said simply, and you fell forward onto all fours, crawling behind him as he led you down the hall.

The floor was cold and unyielding, and you soon regretted the shoes as they made your trek more painful than it should have been. Expecting to be brought to the bedroom, you sucked in a deep breath of surprise as Misha stopped by the guest room and unlocked the door with the key that was hidden above the moulding.

The rest of the apartment was a cozy home, filled with overflowing, unorganized book shelves and scented candles, herbs and succulents in clay pots. There was folk art and knick knacks, and hand woven Native American tapestries; it was home and it was perfect. Locked behind the guest room door was another world that very few people got to see.

The guest room was where you kept your toys.

The room was dark, lit by a few lamps scattered around the walls, each covered with a silk scarf that set the room aglow in a deep red. There was a trunk to the left of the door that held a vast array of playthings, and a large, two person bean-bag chair in the right hand corner. The floor was covered in a plush carpet and the edges were stacked with comfy pillows. In the very center of the room, hanging down from two large metal hooks in the ceiling, was a black leather swing with straps for your arms and legs. 

Misha walked you inside and carefully shut the door behind you.

“Now,” he said, pulling up on your tie, urging you to stand, “are you ready for your punishment, Little One?”

You sighed and nodded as you answered, keeping your eyes to the floor. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Misha let go of the tie and wrapped his hands around your neck, gently loosening the silk around your throat before opening the knot. He kissed your cheek as the tie fell to the floor, and whispered against your ear. “Get in the swing.”

He watched in silence as you set yourself in place, looping your legs through the straps and hooking your arms in their spots. It was a struggle to fit your heels through, but a pleading look to Misha was met with a firm, negative shake, so you kept them on.

Braced by the wide seat, you settled in, holding tight to the arm straps as you got used to the feeling of being suspended mid-air. The seat held your legs apart, and Misha enjoyed the view for a while as you waited impatiently for whatever he was planning.

You held your breath when he stepped towards you, savouring the exquisite anticipation; sometimes that was the best part, not knowing how or where he’d touch you, or even if he would. It didn’t matter what you wanted, that you ached for him, that your pussy was already soaked and throbbing from the tone in his voice and the look in his eye; none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was what he wanted, what he chose to give you.

Two warm fingers touched your left foot, and the reaction was instant. You closed your eyes and tried not to squirm away as Misha dragged his hand slowly up your leg. He hummed quietly as he rounded the curve of your knee and slid gently down your inner thigh. 

“Such a beautiful thing you are,” he said calmly as his fingertips trailed over your mound. “So…perfect.” He stopped at the apex and extended his thumb, letting it dip between your legs to brush against your clit. You hissed in response, but held your tongue, knowing the louder you were, the more likely he was to pull away.

Misha chuckled at your reaction and swirled his thumb around your bud. “So sensitive already,” he remarked. “You haven’t been playing without permission have you?”

“N-no, Sir,” you squeaked out as he dropped his thick digit into your entrance. You clenched around him, already wet and needy. “Good girls do not play without permission,” you recited automatically and Misha smiled.

“That’s right,” he said, pumping his finger inside you. “And what else don’t they do?”

Your thighs twitched as he pressed his hand down hard against your clit, rolling it slightly. “Think,” you gasped.

“Or?” He pumped faster.

Your eyes rolled at the pressure he was building inside of you, your body tightening and aching. “Cum.”

Pulling his finger from your pussy, Misha brought it to his lips and you watched with wide eyes as he sucked it clean, humming happily at your taste. 

“Very good,” he praised.

You shivered at the loss of his hand, subconsciously lifting your hips for more.

“And what’s the only thing you need to do?”

Your heart stopped and your eyes glazed over as you gave your answer. “Obey.”

His mouth curled upwards in one corner and the lines around his eyes deepened. “Good. Let’s see if you can remember that.”

Misha gave a quick wink before turning his back on you. You swung slightly in the air, biting your lip in anticipation while Misha shrugged the jacket from his shoulders and tossed it onto the beanbag chair. The sleeves of his dark tee were tight around his big arms, and you drooled when the fabric stretched across his bulky shoulders as he lifted the lid of the toy trunk. He dug around for a moment, choosing the weapon of your imminent torture, but you barely noticed. You could focus on nothing but the movement of his muscles beneath the cotton, the flex of his bicep as he moved items aside, the gentle curl of the hair at the nape of his bare neck.

“This should do,” he whispered to himself as he pulled out a familiar large pink vibrator. He laid the head on his palm and flipped the switch, smirking as the lowest level shook his entire arm. “Yup.”

You whimpered as he turned back to you, the sex toy tight in his fist. “Now,” he said, his voice dropping to a deep, commanding tone, “you’re going to show me how good you can be.” Again, he turned the switch, and the you began to buzz. “You will be silent.” He closed the space between you, standing between your open legs, pointing the vibrator at your pussy. “And you will not cum.”

On an exhale, you gave your consent. “Yes, Sir.”

When the vibrations hit your pussy, you knew your obedience would be harder than usual. The buzzing flowed through you, and you bit your tongue to keep from crying out. Misha teased you with the tip of the vibrator, dragging it slowly up and down through your slick folds, watching your muscles tighten as you tried to force his hand. When your legs began to shake in the stirrups, Misha went for it, pressing the pulsing plastic head to the very tip of your clit. Your mouth opened in a silent gasp as your pussy tightened and your heart raced.

Just when you felt that you had no choice but to break another rule, Misha pulled the device away, stepping back to observe his sweaty, panting toy.

Somehow, you managed to hold back, and lifted your head to look to Misha with silently pleading eyes. You begged him with your entire being, but all he gave you was a devilish grin.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered. “So well.”

Your head felt heavy, rolling on your shoulders, so washed in denied pleasure that it was hard to focus. You managed a weak smile and Misha laughed.

“Feeling OK?” he asked as your jaw dropped again.

“Y-yeah. So good.”

Misha licked his lips and nodded, turning away to place the vibrator on top of the trunk. “Good. Now, this time,” he said as he returned to you, “I want to hear you.”

Your mouth went dry as Misha cupped your cheek with one big hand and gently ran one thick finger down across your jaw. “I want to hear every…” His hand trailed down your throat and beyond, sliding down your chest. “…little…” Hot fingers circled your nipple, transforming the soft flesh into a stiff peak. “…thing.” His fingers closed around your nipple and he twisted his wrist just enough to draw the first of many whimpers from your throat.

Misha smiled and drew his tongue across those big pink lips. “Oh, yes. Just like that, Little One. Nice and loud for me.”

“Yes, Sir.” It was all you had left in you to say, and when the syllables had faded into the air, there was nothing but deep, needy moans to take its place.

Misha bent down to take your other breast in his mouth. He sucked hard, scraping his teeth over your sensitive flesh as his hand tweaked and pulled the other side. Each movement sent a jolt of electricity to your aching cunt, but there was no relief, nothing to fill you, not yet.

For a moment, you were floating freely as Misha sank to his knees on the soft carpet. He caught you mid swing, pulling the apparatus towards him easily, hooking his fingers beneath you on the leather seat. He leaned forward and blew a breath of hot air against your soaked pussy, making you shiver.

“Please…” you begged, your fingers tensing around the straps.

Misha chuckled and drew one finger up and down your slit, following the path his breath had taken. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

It was hard to breathe, but you answered him instantly, and without a thought. “Yes, Sir. So needy.”

He pressed his middle finger inside and pursed his lips in admiration as he pulled it slowly back out. “Fucking soaked, Y/N/N.”

“Always wet for you, always horny.” The words tumbled from your lips easily. It felt so good not to have to think, just to feel and answer him.

“I know you are. Good girls always are,” he growled with a smirk and pressed his lips to your pussy. You moaned as he kissed your outer lips, your thighs, your ass. His mouth was hot and soft, his cheeks scratchy against your smooth skin. He worked slowly, lulling you into a strange calmness until your eyes fell shut and your heart slowed. It was gentle and sweet, and soon he added the very tip of his tongue, pushing softly between your folds.

“Oh, fuck!” Your moans took form as Misha spread your pussy wide with his thumbs and swirled his tongue slowly around your clit. “Yes! Fuck!”

With a proud smirk, Misha sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard and fast, watching as your belly tightened and the swing shook.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered and you let go, sending curses towards the ceiling while his fingers teased your entrance. “So very tight,” he hummed, driving three wide fingers into your heat, feeling your pussy close quickly around them.

“Yes! Fuck!” Your voice rang loud and clear as you began to beg, “Please, Sir, please may I cum? Please!”

Misha backed away from your clit and crooked his fingers deep inside, petting your g spot. “No.”

You whined pitifully as his tongue flickered against your clit. “Please! I have to cum. Need to. Please…”

“No.”

All at once, he left your pussy. Hands, tongue, lips, breath, everything was gone, making you cry out at the sudden departure. It was cold without him and your body shivered on the edge of bliss, once more denied.

Tears stung your eyes and you let them close. Your head fell back and you cried softly, needing more, needing Him. “Please…”

Gentle hands slid the straps from your ankles and your muscles trembled, still far from the floor, but released from the bindings. Your impossible heels hit the carpet, pointing your toes straight down, and Misha spent a moment in fascinated awe, running his hand up your tight calves, humming in appreciation. “Such a perfect thing you are. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied between tearful sighs.

His hands slid further up, covering every curve until his left curled around the back of your neck, roughly lifting your head up.

“Beautiful,” he said again, stepping in between your legs. “Perfect,” he went on as his fingers tensed at the nape of your neck. Your eyes fluttered while he spoke, and you heard the clink of his belt buckle as he opened his pants. “Obedient…” A shiver leapt down your spine and Misha’s jeans hit the floor. “Mine.”

“Yours. Yes. Always.”

He teased you for a minute longer, slowly rubbing the tip of his cock across your pussy, watching with dark eyes as you squirmed, lifting your legs to wrap around him, urging him on.

A sexy grunt pushed up from the back of his throat as Misha sank into you, and your legs locked around him, the very tips of your heels digging into the cleft of his ass.

“Mine,” he said again as he pushed fully inside.

“Yours,” you echoed, holding onto the leather as the swing moved you with each thrust.

Misha bared his teeth as he fucked you, growling like a wolf, his finger biting your flesh as he held you stead. “You my Little Angel?”

Your eyes rolled as your pussy pulsed on his cock. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m your Little Angel! Fuck!”

The hand behind your head tensed and lifted you higher. “That’s right you are,” he panted, sweat beading on his forehead and neck. “My good Little Angel.”

“Good Little Angel, I’m your good Little Angel,” you chanted automatically as the pleasure reached its peak for the third time. Your words melted to nothing once again and you cried out, loud and desperate.

His hand left your hair and Misha pressed his thumb to your clit. “Cum for me,” he growled, and sparks lit behind your eyes. The pleasure, twice denied, now exploded through your body. It stopped your breath and curled your fingers, shook every cell and vessel. Misha’s hands bore down upon your hips as he thrust even harder, meeting his own end as yours continued to pulse around him.

When you came down, you came down hard, and your hands slipped from the straps, your head rolling back again to hang off the swing. Misha was quick to scoop you up, lifting you easily into his strong arms. His jacket was kicked from its spot on the beanbag to make room for you, and Misha laid you down gently, carefully arranging your weak arms, and brushing the hair back from your eyes.

“My good girl,” he cooed as he kissed your eyes closed. “So good for me.” A blanket fell over you, warm and soft, and Misha lay down with you, pulling your face to his chest. His shirt was damp with sweat, but he was warm and you curled your fingers around the cotton, clinging to him as you caught your breath.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his chest.

His arms tightened around your shoulders and he kissed your hair. “Thank you, baby.” He sighed and fit his chin atop your head. “You know, I nearly had a heart attack when I walked in. You in that trenchcoat, oh my god.”

You giggled and burrowed further against him, lightheaded and blushing. “Sorry I was a brat. I just missed you this week.”

“It’s OK, Y/N/N,” he assured you with another squeeze. “I missed you, too.”

Satisfied and ready to drift away into a peaceful night’s sleep, you whispered the most important words, the only words that really mattered in the end, “I love you, Misha.”

He pulled back a few inches and lifted your chin with two gentle fingers. “I love you too, Y/N.”

His smile was sweet and his lips were warm as his kissed you goodnight.


End file.
